Sliding Down Banisters
by shannontheimaginaryrockstar
Summary: Mitchie's depressed. Can somebody save her? Mitchie/Mikayla, possible Liley FEMSLASH......reading the actual story would be much better than reading the summary
1. It's Finally Time

**Warning: Yes, this is a Mitchie/Mikayla story (and i might possibly throw Liley and some other people in there somewhere, i have no idea where i am going with this) so if you have a problem with that, you might consider leaving and reading a Niley story. *shudders***

**Disclaimer: of course i don't own anything. if i did, i probably wouldn't even KNOW about this website. **

Mitchie had come to terms with the fact that she was depressed a long time ago (but that's for another time). The thing was, she thought she would get over it. But instead of things getting better, like they should, her life became a consistent spiral downward. Now she barely ever got out of bed. She had gained at least ten pounds from the relentless ice cream taunting her, practically begging her to sneak it up to her bedroom with just a spoon--she didn't even bother with the bowl anymore.

Her friends were long past getting concerned. They were long past trying to help. They had tried, but after Mitchie's refusal time after time, they figured that she would come to them if she needed anything.

As for her parents......well they were never there. They cared, but they were simply oblivious. And Mitchie was tired. She was tired of having people constantly harassing her, tired of the countless arguments and the meaningless apologies. She was tired of everything. That's why tonight was the night. After this, she wouldn't have to worry anymore. And she would go peacefully, right in her sanctuary, the one place that she was always comforted. Her bed was like her only place, and this is exactly where she wanted to end it.

There was a note, of course. She folded it shut and put it on her desk, then went back to her bed, pill bottle in hand. They wouldn't even miss her. Her friends would probably cry at her funeral, but they would get over it soon enough. And her parents would just be back to the old routine. They probably wouldn't even notice until the smell got to them..........

She shuddered and tried to get the image out of her head. _Well, the sooner the better....._ She didn't know how it had come to this, but it was time. There was no use in reminiscing all the pathetic details of her life.

Half the bottle later, and she was slipping away, into a stream of complete bliss. Nobody to think about, no problems......

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She woke up a week later in a strange room that looked remarkably like........a hospital?

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**Haha don't you just love how ridiculously short this was? Don't worry, I will write another chapter or two tonight and tomorrow. This is sort of the.....introduction? It WILL turn into a Mitchie/Mikayla story eventually, i don't know how long it will be, but I will actually do some stuff with it since i have an idea. lol. Anyway.....reviews are nice. it will actually get inside some peoples' heads later on, this was supposed to be pretty vague. **


	2. Wait, Come Again?

Mikayla's POV

It's not fair. How can they make me do this? I was supposed to be hanging out with friends, sleeping late, partying and being a total lazy-ass all summer. I can't help it that my mom's car magically disappeared out of the garage and hit that stupid tree! So maybe I have had problems with things jumping into the middle of the street on me before--mailboxes, garbage cans, and now apparently trees--but now she's making me work at some nuthouse all summer to pay it off? It's not fair! Iniquitous! Inequitable!

Ok, time to put the thesaurus back up. Anyway, since I couldn't do anything cool, because apparently you need a "degree" or whatever, I have to work in--get this--housekeeping! So I am currently sweeping the hallways in The Mackenzie Institute of Something About Drugs and Depression.....I call it Mackenzie. It's my first day and I have already had to clean toilets and make beds. I would rather work at McDonald's--and that's enough to make _me _depressed.

I slowly slide the broom back and forth, back and forth, not really paying attention to what I'm doing, just waiting for my next break.

"Um.....excuse me?" A timid voice behind me tells me that I'm probably not alone anymore, and I turn around to see another girl, about my age, that's absolutely gorgeous. I mean, I have seen plenty of pretty girls but.....there was something different about this one.

"Hi. Uh, can I, um, help you?" God, I sound like such an idiot! What is wrong with me? I'm usually so good with this "talking" stuff.

"Yea, I need....to know where I am?" It came out like a question. I suppose that means this girl is here for drugs and not depression. Just my luck. At least the emo kids usually know what's going on!

"Let me get you to a nurse, she'll explain much better than I can." I start using my maternal, I'm-gonna-talk-to-you-like-a-baby-since-you-don't-know-what's-happening voice. It doesn't seem to go over well, because she starts glaring.

"I'm not _stupid_ you know, you don't need to talk to me like I'm a four-year-old!" Woah, this girl has a temper!

"I'm sorry, let me just......" I just turn around and hurry away, simultaneously looking for a nurse for the girl and a bag to put over my head. I'm so _stupid_!

Mitchie's POV

Ok, this is so _not _what was supposed to happen. When I first woke up, I couldn't figure out if I was in Heaven or Hell. Now, I don't think I ever left. But then again, it might actually be Hell.

When I woke up, I didn't want to move, but soon the urge to relieve my entirely-too-full bladder took over and I had to get up. Plus, I _really_ wanted to know where I was. I ran into some girl in the hallway, and I think I really freaked her out. But I couldn't help it, I'm not exactly in a good mood. Actually, I'm quite pissed.

The nurse that came back told me that I got admitted to the Mackenzie Institute for Drug and Mental Rehabilitation. Apparently, my parents sent me here after the hospital. They have been waiting for me to wake up, but they finally got tired and went home so they are coming back later. _Fantastic._ Note the sarcasm.

Now she is showing me around the place. It looks a lot like a college dorm. There is a rec-room downstairs, equipped with T.V., computers, pool table, foosball, and--not exactly to my dismay--an upright piano against the wall. I am in the depression wing--duh--and the drug building is right across a courtyard that has random trees, picnic tables, and benches everywhere, and seems to be the place everybody hangs out when it's nice outside--like today.

The weather isn't exactly helping with my mood though. I don't want to be here; I'm not _supposed _to be here, I'm supposed to be somewhere else, where I'm actually happy and people aren't complete idiots. After the extremely long, tedious tour, I go back to my room. The nurse explains that I get to have visitors, there are classes every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings, I have a shrink, I'm lucky that I don't have to do school because it's summers, oh, and get this: No sharp objects. I swear, this place will be the death of me, not that that's necessarily a bad thing.

I chuckle at my own morbid joke and lay on the bed, looking around the room. It's really bare, just a few essentials: bed, dresser, nightstand fully equipped with lamp. I repeat--Fantastic.

Kill me?

**Ok so again, short, but.....I promise there will be at least one more chapter this weekend. I won't write like huge, super long chapters because I don't have time and my parents probably wouldn't exactly approve of this so I kind of have to do it randomly. But, reviews would be absolutely fantastic (and i'm not being sarcastic, like a certain somebody), even if they are just telling me that i suck at writing and need to get a life. =] **

**Plus, if you really do think this story sucks and it's a bad idea, if i get enough people saying that then i will start a different story, just gotta get inspired first. **

**ALSO! If you have any ideas about where this story should go, i would be happy to take suggestions. I already have an idea, but i'm sure you could come up with better. Ok, gonna stop rambling. =] **


	3. Doorknobs in the Stomach

**Hey! Miss me? Sorry i didn't update last weekend!**

**And thanks for all the reviews I got, they mean a TON! **

**So I have been reading Mitchie/Mikayla stories forever, but they're all so normal so it made me want to do something kind of different--like making Mitchie kind of bitchy, because it rhymed so i just couldn't help myself. She will probably get better later on in the story though. ALSO! I don't know how long this story's gonna be, but by the way things are going, i think it's going to be pretty long, and i'll probably just keep going with it as long as y'all want me to. Liley WILL come eventually, but it will be a little while.**

**Oh and sorry for all of my ridiculously long author's notes. =]**

Mitchie's POV

I can fight it off if I want to, if I really, truly _have _to. That's what I did in the beginning: I fought it and fought it, and then I got too exhausted and lost the reason for all the fighting and I finally just let it be. I let myself sink down under the quicksand and didn't even struggle, because the struggling just makes you suffocate quicker.

But even in the beginning, even when I didn't agree with it and wouldn't accept it, I couldn't fight it at night. The dark all around, it was the one time I couldn't be anybody but myself, and that scared the hell out of me. I would lay in bed, wishing for sleep to take over me but at the same time dreading it because I knew that as soon as it happened the nightmares would come, and that I would wake up the next day and be even more tired than before and wish that night never had to come, sleep never had to come, and most of all that there was never that nagging feeling in my gut telling me that no matter what, night was _always_ going to come and the nightmares would _never_ go away.

Now I'm laying in bed, once again wishing for sleep yet knowing that the sooner I fall asleep, the sooner I have to wake up and start this whole new life, the whole new routine that is just going to put me in a pissy mood for my whole summer because I am stuck in this place with these crazy people. But it comes, and all too soon I am disturbed by a pounding of the door followed by a voice saying "If you don't get up soon you'll miss breakfast, so I'd advise you to get your ass out of bed!" Who the hell was that?

Mikayla's POV

I hate new haircuts. It always takes forever to get them where they look just right, and they feel weird all day, and if you get a bad one, then you're really screwed because it takes forever for it to grow back out so you can get it re-cut and go through it all again.

I haven't decided if I like this one yet, but as I walk down the hallways knocking on the doors waking people up--my first assignment of the day--it keeps falling in my face, and I'm figuring it's going to end up being one of those nasty ones that you get sick of _fast_.

I get finished and turn and slowly start making my way to the cafeteria. I'm trying to get the hair out of my eyes without having to move my arms, because why do it unless you really have to, when I smack straight into something hard and promptly fall right onto my ass. This day is definitely shaping up to be a good one.

"Haha watch where you're going much?" I can hear the snicker in the girl's voice, I don't even have to look. I get up on my feet, still looking down on the floor, trying not to let her see how embarrassed I am. "Helloooooo, hit your head on the way down?" I look up and realize that it's the girl from the other day, the one that let me have it for talking to her like a baby.

"Um no, I'm fine." I try to hurry away without showing too much of my face to the gorgeous, scary girl that just hit my in the face with her door.

"Wait!" She grabs my arm and spins me around, and I find myself looking directly into her eyes.

We sit there and stare at each other for a minute, apparently both of us waiting for the other to talk. _Fine, I'm always the one who has to do everything. _"Yes?" I prompt. She quickly releases her vice grip on my arm.

"I'm...um....sorry. For hitting you. With my door. And stuff. Yea. Sorry." Wow, she was definitely good with words, huh?

"It's...um....ok. You didn't mean to. Hit me. With your door. And stuff." I smirk, teasing her a little bit because she made fun of me earlier.

To my surprise she laughed, and I smiled at her.

Mitchie

_Wow, that was....weird. _I haven't actually laughed in a long time. Not a real laugh. But this girl, there was something about her....I don't know. But she grinned at me, so I smiled back. It was a small one, barely visible, but a real smile nonetheless, and it felt good.

"We you on your way to the cafeteria?" She asked. I nodded, still a little shocked by my little outburst.

"Walk with me." It was an order, not a question, but I was happy to oblige. At least I wouldn't look like a total doughnut walking around by myself. Everybody here seemed to be friends with everybody, but since there were only two people I had so much as talked to this whole time, I wasn't exactly included in that everybody.

I look over at her, noticing that something looks different from the last time I saw her.

"Did you get a haircut?" It came tumbling out of my mouth seemingly before I thought it, but I noticed that yes, she had gotten a haircut since our first awkward encounter.

"Oh. Yea. I don't think I like it though. I can't decide."

"I do." Where did _that _come from? I really need to start thinking before I speak. I'm usually so good about it, but for some reason my brain doesn't seem to be working very well right now. "It, uh, frames your face well. It looks good." Wow, nice save Mitch. _Not._

"Thanks. So you never told me your name." She obviously wants me to tell her my name, but that wasn't a question.

"No. I didn't." She gets a funny look on her face.

"Well. I'm Mikayla, Ms. FunnyGirl." Ms. FunnyGirl? Please tell me that's not going to end up being her stupid little nickname for me. We stop at the door to the cafeteria. "I have to go talk to my boss and see what I'm supposed to be doing now, but it was nice talking to you, ........"

Another space for me to tell her my name, but I've decided I like messing with this girl. "Nice talking to you too!" And with that, I spin around on my heel and briskly walk away from her.......Mikayla.

** Alright, so I was supposed to post another chapter last weekend, but I never did and I really don't know why, but..... Then I was gonna post TWO chapters last night, but my internet stopped working and it didn't ever start again til this morning. So then I was reading over the chapters i wrote last night before i posted them, and i decided they suck, so i re-wrote them. hahaha. I may get to post again this weekend, but it won't be until like Sunday, because i'm busy the rest of today and tomorrow I'm seeing Skillet, and won't be back until really late. so yes. lol. **

**Make sure you review so I know just how awesome I am--haha just kidding. But seriously, review cause it definitely helps me a LOT in ways you couldn't even begin to understand. lol**


	4. Oh, the Babbling

**Dude. It so isn't worth even reading it. This is seriously probably the worst thing I've ever written. Good idea to decide to write when I have no idea what to say! haha Ugh. Not okay. Also, in case you couldn't tell, I completely lost the story. And the characters' voices. I don't even know. Especially Mitchie. I just can't seem to write it. Maybe all my depressed way of thinking went away. And the funny thinking too. That's gone. **

Mikayla's POV

I've always been fascinated with scars. I know, kind of creepy of me. But the thing is, they can betray absolutely everything about a person. There aren't just scars from that one time you fell off your bicycle when you were seven, or when you tripped down the stairs when you were nine and hit your head on the corner at the bottom. People get scars from everything- every traumatic experience, every emotional breakdown, every time their heart is broken.

Scars aren't just a thin line above your upper lip, they're in the way you talk. The way you act. The way you relate to other people. Scars aren't just physical or emotional- one is the other. The scars that don't show up as a bump on your knee show in your expression. Your eyes. And the ones that do show up as that lightning bolt thing on your forehead, well those affect who you are two. Scars change you. They _should_ change you.

But your scars should never become you.

The scars on her wrists, they had become her. I could tell. I've known this girl for little more than a week, we've had a total of maybe five encounters, and I know that her scars became her. But I didn't care about the scars on her arms. There was a thin line under her right eye. Just a faint white, barely recognizable, hardly noticeable. I have one in the same spot. It was from my best friend throwing a rock at me in second grade.

I want to know what her's was from. Actually, I want to know more. I want to know everything about her. And her name, well that would be a good place to start.

Mitchie's POV

Cafeterias have always driven me insane. So when I go in there to get my lunch today, I try to run in, eat, and run out as fast as I can.

Unfortunately, in the middle of my little sprint to victory, I forgot to look where I was going. Soon my ass was firmly connected to the floor and my face was a color even the ripest of tomatoes would be jealous of.

"Well someone sure is hungry!" Oh no. I know that voice. I'm about to get major payback for all that teasing I did earlier. Just as I'm about to respond, a hand is in front of my face. So, naturally, I do what any teenage girl would do. I grab it and yank as hard as I can, and yep, soon enough that girl... _Mikayla... _joins me, involuntarily, on the tile.

"Fancy meeting you here." I said. Oh yes, very smooth. Her face is bright red and she actually looks quite pissed off. Oops!

"What the _fuck _was that for?" Okay, really oops.

"It was an accident. Sorry!" I claim, totally not sorry at all. And she knows it. She just sits on the floor and glares at me, while other people just walk around us and don't even spare a second glance. Oh, how I love being in a freak house(sometimes). People don't even register two people on the floor in the middle of the cafeteria as weird.

"Whatever." She said as she slowly rose to her feet. Now I really am starting to feel sorry. She's one of the only people I've talked to this entire time, and I don't want that to stop.

"Wait!" I jumped to my feet and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop walking away from me. "I really am sorry. I just... I'm not doing all that great, you know? And that was like, the most fun I've had in a really long time." I put on my best poor depressed girl face, but I don't think she's buying it.

"I have to go." And with that, the gorgeous girl is walking away. Awesome.

Mitchie's POV, later

I think all anybody cares about here is meetings. I mean, seriously. That's all anybody ever talks about. That's all I ever do, except sit in my room. And every single meeting is the same, useless shit. Every. Single. One.

"Hi, I'm Mitchie and I'm depressed! I used to cut myself when I was still allowed sharp objects! I hate life and I hate it here!"

Perfect, right?

So I figured today would be a great day to skip my meeting and go for a walk. It was nice outside, I guess, and everybody else was inside. Except for her.

Mikayla's POV

I didn't see the depressed girl (she _still_ hasn't told me her name. Not cool.) until she was right in front of me. I was skipping out on mopping the kitchen floors (Eww!), taking a walk outside, when all of the sudden two brown eyes were staring me down.

"It's Mitchie." She said. Umm, what?

"Umm, what?"

"My name. It's Mitchie. And you'd think it'd be short for something but it's actually not. My mom just has a thing for weird names. I'm seventeen, but I don't drive, because it scares me. My favorite color is blue. I know, not black? What a surprise! I hate chocolate milk. And pretty much any green vegetable. My favorite ice cream is chocolate chip cookie dough. I love writing. I hate reading. I have to sleep on the right side of the bed, always. I watch too much trashy t.v. for my own good. I used to have friends. I also used to actually talk to people. I used to only be in bed at night, when I was supposed to. I used to talk a lot, like this, but I haven't said this much at once in like at least a year. And I'm sorry, if this is freaking you out but it kind of all just came out and now I can't seem to quit talking and-"

I put my hand over her mouth and she finally shut up.

Wow. What the hell was that?

**Honestly, I wouldn't expect too many updates. And after that, I'm sure nobody wants them. lol Not that anybody actually read this. but if you happened to, review and tell me how terrible I am so I can get this out of my head please :)**


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